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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29982513">This ugly, beautiful thing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirty_thunderstorm/pseuds/dirty_thunderstorm'>dirty_thunderstorm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Will Graham, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hannibal is a bad person but that's okay, M/M, Murder Husbands, Possessive Hannibal Lecter, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Will isn't a saint either</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:34:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29982513</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirty_thunderstorm/pseuds/dirty_thunderstorm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-fall, Will is enjoying some time on the beach, making new friends. But alas, Hannibal is jealous...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>This ugly, beautiful thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by <a href="https://fieropasto.tumblr.com/post/644454818007613440/but-truly-for-all-his-sweet-words-and-crafted/">this Tumblr post </a>, with the author's permission (and encouragement &lt;3 )</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun shines over the surface of the sea, the small waves glistening like silver as water laps my knees. A gentle breeze makes the air bearable, and children laugh in the distance, lost in their beach games. It’s hard to believe that I can find solace in the sea, after everything, and yet. This is a calm sea. The smile of a mother who went through the hardships of giving birth, through blood and pain, and can now rest.</p>
<p>    I run my fingers through the water. It’s warm, pleasant. </p>
<p>    A ball lands in front of me, a guy comes splashing water with his attempt at running.</p>
<p>    «I’m sorry!»</p>
<p>    Behind him, two girls and three other guys laugh and spray each other with water.</p>
<p>    I hand him the ball, as he comes closer.</p>
<p>    «I’m sorry, Tony’s an idiot with a terrible aim.» He points at one of the guys, a dark skinned young man with a bright smile.</p>
<p>    He sighs and retrieves the ball. He has auburn curls and sun-accentuated freckles on his nose and cheeks, and green eyes. He’s rather handsome. </p>
<p>    «It’s nothing.» I shake my head.</p>
<p>    «Hey, that’s a cool scar you have.» He points at his face, mirroring my own scar. «Scars.» His gaze goes down to my belly.</p>
<p>    «I wish I had a cool story behind them but... no.» I shrug. «A guy stabbed me in a parking lot because he thought I had stolen his spot.» </p>
<p>    «Man, that’s crazy.» His mouth widens in surprise. </p>
<p>    «Yeah, I almost died back there.» I sigh.</p>
<p>    He shakes his head in disbelief. Disbelief at the absurdity of the world, not my story’s. «By the way, I’m John.»</p>
<p>    «Mark.» I shake his hand.</p>
<p>    «Hey, Mark, why don’t you, huh, join us?» He runs a hand through his curls and smiles. «Otherwise it’s just fine, I promise we won’t disturb you anymore.» He lets out an embarrassed laughter. </p>
<p>    I wonder if he finds me handsome. If the ball throw was an excuse to get closer to me. I’m so used to being seen as beautiful by Hannibal’s eyes that I forget other people have eyes, sometimes.</p>
<p>    I turn around, Hannibal is still sitting on his chair, peacefully reading his book under the shade of our blue beach umbrella.</p>
<p>    «Sure, why not.» I smile at John, and he smiles back enthusiastic.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>    A piano piece I don’t know echoes through the living room, and a scent of spices - paprika, perhaps - comes from the kitchen. The sound of a knife on a chopping board, Hannibal must be almost ready with dinner. The table has already been set, purple and red flowers emerging from a large shell make up the centerpiece. A much simpler piece than what he used to do in Baltimore, but always stunning. </p>
<p>    He has left some of his drawings on the table next to the sofa. The newest one is on top, and that’s me. He has drawn me so many times he could fill an exhibition just out of his portraits and study of me, and I can’t help but feel honored.</p>
<p>    This drawing has a great level of detail. I stand with my left arm forward, as if I were pointing at something, while my right arm touches my collarbone. My feet barely touch the ground, as if I were flying or dancing. Dancing, definitely. I wear a series of gold necklaces, an ornate belt covered in jewels which trails like a skirt behind me, touching the ground. There’s even pearls in my hair. I am amazed at the level of detail he’s capable of creating with just a few strokes of his pencil, and I’d love to find out what I’m supposed to be pointing at.</p>
<p>    I also wonder if he’d like to see me like this, naked except for jewels and brocades, dancing for him. </p>
<p>    «Would you like a taste?» Hannibal is peering out of the kitchen, holding a fork. The fork holds a small piece of meat.</p>
<p>    «I smell paprika.»</p>
<p>    He nods.</p>
<p>    «And something else. Fruit?» I open my mouth.</p>
<p>    «The sauce is made of plums and onions. I have cooked the meat at a low temperature all day.» He puts the fork in my mouth, his eyes steady. No one would notice anything in his eyes, but I do, that spark of desire is for me and for me only. The meat melts in my mouth, a perfect combination of flavours, the paprika blended perfectly with the sweetness of the sauce.</p>
<p>    «Stunning.» I nod. «Pork?»</p>
<p>    «Pigs are surprising animals. Did you know they’re an invasive species in many parts of the world? Colonizers could leave them on islands, come back a year after, and find a greater number of pigs. This happened often at the expense of local ecosystems.»</p>
<p>    «They adapt well.» I place a soft kiss on his lips. Haven’t we adapted well, after all?</p>
<p>    He gives me one of his half-smile, half-smirks. «Sit, I’ll serve dinner.»</p>
<p>    I obey.</p>
<p>    Hannibal’s footsteps draw closer behind me. He lays a plate in front of me, a silver plate where a man’s head lies surrounded by figs, plums and greens. The man has reddish brown hair, his serene expression making everything more grotesque. Freckles decorate his nose and cheeks. This is John!</p>
<p>    «What the hell?» I get up, the chair screeches behind me.</p>
<p>    «Calm, my dear, I checked. He was travelling alone, making new friends wherever he went. He adapted well.» That familiar smirk is more visible now.</p>
<p>    «Like a pig.»</p>
<p>Hannibal nods, without even bothering to hide his satisfaction.</p>
<p>«Why?» He was kind to me.</p>
<p>«You danced for the head of John the Baptist, my exquisite, precious Salome.» He lies a hand on my cheek, caressing the back of my head. «I gave you what you asked for.»</p>
<p>«I didn’t...»</p>
<p>John’s head lies still on its plate. I almost expect it to start talking, to start blaming him. Blaming me. Us.</p>
<p>Hannibal's eyes are fixated on John's head. He appears calm, serious, but I can see his pride and satisfaction as an artist. And yet.</p>
<p>«You did it because you're jealous.»</p>
<p>He licks his lower lip, staring into my eyes.</p>
<p>«You... You never took your eyes off me, at the beach, even when you were pretending to read.»</p>
<p>«I never take my eyes off you.»</p>
<p>I'm supposed to feel upset, but a pleasant warmth radiates from the back of my neck. It's a form of sick pride.</p>
<p>«You marinated and cooked him slowly just like you cooked slowly in your jealousy.»</p>
<p>He nods, his eyebrows slightly raised in pride. «You truly know me like no other.»</p>
<p>Fury boils inside me. I push him against the wall, savoring the surprised look on his eyes. «I can't talk to anyone, can I? I’m yours, and yours only.»</p>
<p>«He had clear interest in you.» A strand of hair has fallen on his forehead, but he still looks composed.</p>
<p>«It didn’t matter!» I keep him against the wall, pushing his shoulders with my hands. «It’s not that you don’t trust me, you do.» I shake my head. «You still wanted to do it.»</p>
<p>«You suggested eating Bedelia’s leg for the same reason. Jealousy is human.»</p>
<p>A part of me hates being so transparent for him. The other revels in it, finds nourishment in it. </p>
<p>«In Othello, Iago called jealousy a green eyed monster.» </p>
<p>«Oh, do not try that!» I close my hand around his throat. He could overpower me, probably. But he’s curious, and oh God, I wonder when would he stop me. «Do not try to paint it with gold and scatter flowers around it.» I point at John’s head. «Dress your desire in diamonds and pearls, adorn it with pretty words, and it would still be the ugliest thing in the world. You want me only for you in a deep, monstrous way.»</p>
<p>A slight nod, his mouth curved into a sly smile. «What’s to be done about it?» He whispers.</p>
<p>I kiss him, and bite his lower lip until I can taste blood. He wraps his arms around me, a hand on the back of my head.</p>
<p>I break the kiss. «I could’ve had everything, and I threw it in the ocean for you, and even after all of this...» I shrug. «I still want you, and only you.» </p>
<p>He looks at me as if I were the most beautiful thing in the world, and for a moment I feel drenched in blood, on the top of the cliff, Hannibal’s eyes filled with love and admiration as he joins me in killing the Dragon. </p>
<p>«It seems like it’s my desire for you, after all...» I stroke his cheek, «that’s the ugliest thing in the world.»</p>
<p>He shakes his head, slowly, and kisses my forehead. «There’s no trace of ugliness in you, Will.»</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I couldn't resist sneaking in a reference to one of my favourite paintings, aka one of the many Salome variations painted by Gustave Moreau, specifically this one: <a href="https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gustave_Moreau#/media/File:Gustave_Moreau_-_The_Apparition_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg/">link</a>. </p>
<p>Also I know nothing about cooking, so I based Hannibal's recipe on something I have eaten myself, though I promise it was pork.</p>
<p>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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